


The Ugly Truth

by LadyLoec



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas, MAAS Sarah J. - Works
Genre: Magical Accidents, Out of Character, POV Alternating, Truth Spells
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-28 00:00:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15696051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLoec/pseuds/LadyLoec
Summary: A little excess of alcohol and a poor choice of words have magical consequences for Azriel and Cassian when Mor's gift of truth goes awry, leaving Azriel unable to filter his thoughts before he speaks, and Cassian unable to voice his opinions. Some laughter and tears along the way, but lessons are learned by all before the day is out.





	1. Chapter 1

AZRIEL:

"I'm just saying," Cassian practically roared across the dining room "if you would look at the FACTS, it is blindingly obvious you're talking out of your bejewelled backside!"  
Mor stomped a high heeled foot in childish ire, almost catching on her incredibly sparkly and over the top dress. She could wear anything and still look stunning, especially to me, but her choice of gown today looked like Amren's jewellery box had vomited all over her. Not that anyone - least of all me - would dare tell her that, of course. "Gods Cassian, if you would only OPEN YOUR GODS DAMNED EYES once in a while, you would realise how irredeemably stupid you sound right now"

Cassian had been 'just saying' and Mor had been throwing insults for at least 30 minutes. I'd tuned most of it out, and I couldn't even remember what they were fighting about anymore. The empty liquor bottles strewn around the room were testament to how this night had started - every family dinner was the same: Amren would be the first to leave, quickly followed by Feyre's sisters if they were in attendance. Rhys would retire next (in the early days, he would cite important official duties, now he would escape with Feyre to somewhere more private, with about as much grace and subtlety as Mor's gaudy dress). That would leave Mor, Cassian, and I. As we normally dined at the House of Wind, the pattern had remained basically the same, with the others going to their respective places while the three of us stayed behind. It was usually a 50/50 toss up whether it would end up at Rita's or like this - with Cass and Mor at one another's throats, and my shadows subconsciously swarming to hide me and keep me out of it.

It was always over something absurd, too, like who had left the window open in a rainstorm 6 decades ago, or who would win in a hypothetical fight between two acquaintances, or whether Cassian had fallen or was pushed into the Sidra that time. I never got involved, even if I had knowledge or opinion one way or the other. Both of them were experts at holding a grudge, and it was definitely not worth the aggravation. Mostly I just served as referee, made sure as little furniture got broken as possible, and checked they both made it to bed safely and with all their limbs intact.

"Azriel, settle this." Cassian was looking at me expectantly. So was Mor. Mother's tits. I still didn't have a clue what they were arguing about, but apparently they had agreed I was the deciding vote. Apparently a shrug wasn't the response they were looking for as they both started shouting at me in tandem - each one's words clashing with the others. Between this and the brandy, I felt a headache forming.

I measured my words, hedging my bets that 'I really don't give a fuck - please can we just sit in companionable silence while I pretend I'm not staring at Mor's breasts' probably wasn't the answer they were looking for either. Cassian had no filter - every thought that formed in his brain came out of that big mouth without any heed to the consequences. I - on the other hand - almost never said what was on my mind. It was usually divisive, offensive, deeply inappropriate, or a delightful mixture of the three, and whilst my dear friends appreciated my dry humour on the occasions I did make a remark, I didn't think they would appreciate being permanently on the receiving end of my venom. "I don't have a strong opinion one way or the other."

Morrigan sighed dramatically. "Az you NEVER have a strong opinion."  
Cassian chimed in for good measure. "For Cauldron's sake brother, grow a spine. At least Mor isn't afraid to open her mouth, even if she is talking bollocks." Mor glared at him. Well I'd succeeded in changing the subject at least, I thought blandly.  
Mor threw up her hands in indignation: "You know, you two are both as bad as each other. You" she pointed a slightly swaying finger at Cass "speak your mind even when everyone and their mother is begging you to shut the hell up. And you" the accusatory finger swung in my direction "wouldn't weigh in for fear of offending us even if we suggested setting the gods-damned city on fire for kicks." I wondered if I should call in that favour Rhys owed me and have him knock her out magically so I could get out of here, while the tirade kept coming. "One of you is afraid of the truth, and the other can't stop spewing it. Maybe if you each bore the other's curse for the day, you morons might actually learn something!"

A flash like bright blue lightning blasted through the house and the resounding crack was so loud that it threatened to break open my head. "FEYRE! KNOCK IT OFF WITH THE GODS-DAMNED DAY COURT MAGIC! Ow, my head. I thought the headache was supposed to come after the drinking, not during, but I guess listening to your incessant bickering for five centuries merits a migraine." It was an outburst typical of Cassian... Except that it wasn't Cassian who had said it. It was me. 

Cassian and Mor were both looking at me, mouths agape, but I couldn't stop talking. "What? Like anything I said could possibly be worse than that repulsive dress." Why couldn't I shut up?!  
Mor looked like she was going to incinerate me from sheer force of will "What the hell, Az?!" She looked down at her dress, a little crestfallen "Do you really think it's repulsive?"  
I said "Yes" just as Cass shook his head 'no'.  
"Really, brother? Tact isn't your strong suit" I said. He shrugged  
"No, but it is normally yours..." Mor looked horrified, but as if something important had just clicked. "Oh no. I think this might be my fault. I think my gift may have done this somehow. This has truth magic written all over it... A day bearing each other's curse" she mused. "Azriel will say whatever he thinks, whenever he thinks it, just like Cassian does," Cassian threw up his arms in indignation "and I'm guessing Cassian will only be able to speak if Az would normally do so in the same situation." To her credit, she did look remorseful "I'm so sorry, this is all my fault."

"Well, it sure as hell isn't mine!" Mor flinched. I had yelled - actually yelled - at her. 500 years and I'd only ever raised my voice on the battlefield. Despite all the shit they'd pulled over the centuries; even when she'd slept with Cassian, Rhys had shouted at her until he was hoarse, but never me. The look I cast at Mor conveyed my apology, but I couldn't help it - I was still angry. It changed to a glare that was could've frozen flames. "Fix. This." I commanded, before winnowing to my chambers and willing the ground to swallow me whole.

About half an hour later, I was sat on my bed relishing the quiet when two pairs of heavy footsteps trudged up the hall. I didn't need my shadows to recognise them - I knew they'd come eventually - though it was odd that they hadn't given me any warning. They had been uncharacteristically quiet since the magic took hold. Perhaps they relied on my silence to make themselves heard. There was a knock at my door. "I could tell you to piss off, but you'd come in anyway." I said by way of a greeting. My brothers entered - Rhys sat beside me and Cass leaned against the bookcase a moderate distance away. He was red in the face, as if he was itching to make some kind of comment but wasn't able to force the words out. Rhys broke the silence.  
"There's no reversal. Amren confirmed it. Unfortunately this kind of magic just has to run it's course." He eyed me warily before continuing. "The informant from Autumn is expecting you tomorrow, and Devlon's camp is already overdue for inspection. I can't afford to wait for this to be over - I need you both working tomorrow."

"Have you completely taken leave of your senses?" I looked at him with incredulity "I can't even be around our own family right now, let alone meet with a jittery spy in a foreign court! What if I say something to insult him or piss him off? Best case scenario, it's months of hard work in the gutter. At worst, he could betray us to Beron and start a war. Not to mention if you put Silent-but-Violent over there" I gestured emphatically at Cassian "in Devlon's lap, he'll be about as much use as a eunuch in a whorehouse. We'll be even more irrevocably fucked than we are already."  
Rhys looked stunned for a moment (I realised he probably could count on one hand the number of times he had heard so many words come out of my mouth in one go, and never with such vulgar turn of phrase), then opened his mouth as if he was about to argue. It was then that Cassian finally spoke.  
"Then we switch".  
The cold, calculating upturn of his lips would've been far more at home on my face - on Cassian, it just looked odd.  
"Of course." Rhys smiled in agreement. "Cassian meets with the informant, and you can put Devlon in his place."  
"Devlon's known us since we were runts. He'll know the second I open my mouth that something's up." I countered. "Besides, Cass, your stealth is about as well honed as your manners - you'll never get to the rendezvous point without being spotted and peppered with ash arrows."  
Rhys answered "Devlon will definitely spot something's amiss, however it's unlikely he'd be able to spin it to his advantage in the limited timeframe of the spell. And Cassian's lack of surreptitiousness shouldn't be a problem. We have a few old tricks we can employ to keep him hidden." A wry smile. "The Night Court's previous spymasters did occasionally have to sneak about before we had a Shadowsinger, you know."

I sighed. "Go back to your rooms and get some beauty sleep, we want to look our best if we're going to die horribly tomorrow."  
"That's the spirit!" Rhys drawled, flashing a wink in my direction before strolling out of the room. I threw him some choice insults while Cassian chuckled quietly and the door snicked closed behind him. We really were screwed.


	2. Chapter 2

AZRIEL:

After too little sleep, I made my way down to breakfast. I looked like hell - what was the point in bothering to shave or to comb my hair when any impression I made would be shattered by my traitorous mouth? I went down early to avoid the rest of the household, but unfortunately, my plan failed to account for the middle Archeron sister. Elain was eating toast with jam and drinking tea, and smiled faintly as I walked in and swore under my breath: I was one of the few people Elain seemed comfortable talking to after her ordeal, and I didn't want to send her running, but I was bound to run my mouth off at the least opportune moment. I wished her a curt "good morning" and grabbed an apple to shove in my face before I had the chance to make an obscene remark about her nightgown or something. I palmed it - keeping it for emergencies.

"Good morning," she chirped. Concern flashed in her features as she took in my dishevelled state. "You're looking tired Az, did you have a nightmare?"  
"It's ongoing." I huffed. She eyed me inquisitively. "Never mind. How are you feeling?"  
She smiled weakly. "I'm well. I was thinking of planting those seeds Lucien brought back from the continent in the garden, but I need some supplies." She hadn't been anywhere except the House of Wind or the townhouse since the war, so this was clearly a hint for 'someone' (me) to go and get whatever she needed for her. On any other day, I would acquiesce without complaint, but today wasn't any other day...  
"You have legs. No physical deformities that I can see. Rhys has given you recourse to his plentiful funds. Is there a reason you can't go and get them yourself?" Shit. Wasn't quick enough with the apple.  
"I... I... I don't think I'm up to it." Elain stammered.  
Well, I'd already put my foot in it. No use in stopping now: "Elain, you stood up to royalty, survived the Cauldron, and stabbed the King of Hybern with a dagger used to torture people. It's not optimistic to think you can handle a short shopping trip." She looked like she was about to weep, but gods damn me I kept going. "Everyone has their demons, hell every resident of this house has darkness in their past. Pull yourself together and fight yours."  
Tears burst from her eyes as she fled the room. Today was going well already, then.

Head in hands, I didn't notice when Mor sauntered into the room. "I passed Elain in the hall. Your charms at work, I presume?"  
I glared at her through my fingers. She was wearing a robe and eating a pastry of some kind, and didn't look any the worse for wear for last night's exertions. "Morrigan, what are you doing up?"  
"Getting ready for our assignment of course." She breezed. "Should I dress in something that will scandalise Devlon, or something comfortable to beat him to a pulp?"  
"I think I'd rather be shot with a poisoned bolt again" I said. "You are the last person I want to be around right now."  
Mor shot me a look of mock hurt "Az, you wound me." Apparently my glaring skills were still as good as ever, because she softened and approached me. "I said I was sorry."  
"That's not what I meant." I was very glad I'd saved that apple and stuffed it into my mouth before I could say anything else. Mor shot me a look, but didn't push me thank the Mother. I finished chewing. "Whatever you're wearing, put it on fast. We've got work to do."


	3. Chapter 3

CASSIAN:

Concealed in a dark alcove, I held my breath. One of Autumn's sentries was mere feet away - if I had reached out, I could have tapped him on the shoulder. In fact, it would have been my first instinct to do exactly that, then flash him a grin before knocking him out. But I wasn't me right now, or at least I wasn't supposed to be. 

Az's jumpy informant had only dealt with him directly to date, and a new face would probably just scare him off, so I was to impersonate my brother-in-arms. While I was slightly taller and broader, and our faces were distinct, my brother's propensity for stealth would work to our advantage. It was unlikely even with their regular meetings that the guy had gotten a good look at Azriel - his shadows would have concealed his features. My longer hair was covered by the hooded cloak I wore, and helped to obscure my face. The cloak was an heirloom of Rhys' family - it had been used by Azriel's predecessors who had lacked his gifts, the enchantments woven into it allowing the wearer to blend into their environment. If I stood in the gloom, and altered my posture, the effect was similar enough to Az's shadows that I might pass for him.

Once the scout had satisfied himself that the area was clear and moved on, I finally allowed myself to exhale. The informant was due to meet me after this sentry sweep, but I was growing restless. If there was one thing I could take away from this magical mishap, it was that I had earned a new found respect for my brother's occupation, particularly the restraint it took. Getting to the rendezvous point deep within Beron's court without being spotted had been a painfully slow exercise in caution and patience, and it was frustrating not to be able to just stroll in the front door - my reputation and bluster so often did much of the work for me, I wasn't used to having to use more subtle methods. However, as maddening as it was, I had definitely come out of this deal better than Az. I always knew that there were things he kept to himself, and that for every word he said there were a dozen he didn't, but I hadn't realised quite how much the poor male had kept repressed. I hoped his temporary foray into my brutal honesty didn't do any irreparable damage, especially given who was accompanying him on his mission today. 

The dim light at the entrance to the alcove fluttered as someone ducked in. A bundle of nerves in fae form, the male was slight with sharp, angular features. All Az had told me was that he was jumpy, however the shock of red hair distinct to those highborn in the Autumn Court said enough about who he was - one of Beron's illegitimate sons if I wasn't mistaken. He was risking a hell of a lot in working with another court: Other than our own Court of Nightmares, the Autumn Court had the worst reputation for cruelty, and blood relation to it's ruler wouldn't buy him any leniency. His eyes darted around, fearful of discovery. Muscles and bravado, my usual weapons of choice, would be more likely to scare him off than get us the information we needed. 

We exchanged the agreed passphrases (my voice lowered in an approximation of Az's quiet rumble), and the informant proceeded to give his update. Some of it was new information, but much of it merely confirmed information we had already gleaned by other means. There were, however, a number of times I was dying to interject - to ask for more details where they had been scant, or advise him what he should do if a similar situation should arise in future, but the magic kept my mouth firmly shut. Mor had explained that the magic would allow me only to speak if Az would in the same situation, so I wondered why on earth he wouldn't interrupt - particularly when the male mentioned in passing that there was to be a meeting between Beron and his advisers over his succession, which would be pivotal given our reluctant ties to Eris. Finally something that could be worth this Cauldron-cursed trip, and I couldn't make the most of it because of Azriel's cursed caution. The spell was cruel and unfair punishment enough, but this would impact the safety and future of our court. Given my limitations, I made the best of a bad scenario and continued to listen to the male's poor recounting, in the hope I would pick up something vaguely useful.

It was then I noticed that some of the body language which I had taken at face value to be nervousness didn't quite fit. The male was undeniably twitchy, yes, and some of it could definitely be chalked up to anxiety, but there were more subtle cues. I tried to recall what Az had told me about how he spotted a liar (tips he had given me to improve my standing at poker).

The informant kept his hands at his sides, maintained eye contact, and spoke with a measured pace, all of which would point to him being truthful, but my enforced silence gave me breathing space to look closer. Hands at the sides normally indicate that the subject is relaxed, but this male seemed to be putting effort into keeping them there, as if consciously trying not to fidget. His pace of speech should have been at least slightly hurried at least given our clandestine meeting and his concern about being discovered, but remained a little too calm and even. His eyes held well to mine - the biggest sign that he was being truthful - but... there. His eyes flickered down almost imperceptibly quickly, as if he caught his slip and forced himself to return to eye contact. 

There was no doubt in my mind now that informant was lying, though he was clearly practiced in the art of deceit. As well as hiding his visual cues, he had been clever and interspersed the falsehoods with kernels of truth that he no doubt knew would tally with our existing intel. He would definitely have had me fooled if I hadn't been forced to pay closer attention, and I mentally kicked myself for being so foolish. I could kill him where he stood - teach him what the Night Court did to those who betrayed us, but still my muzzle didn't lift. Newly chastised for ignoring my brother's instincts, I let him ramble on and didn't allow myself to shift my stance until I'd figured it out.

Of course. If I retaliated, Beron would know we were on to him, and it was far more advantageous to have him report to Beron that we had bought it. If Beron thought we had taken his planted information at face value, he would think he had the upper hand, and was more likely to slip up. We could also use the false information to discern what he had wanted us to do, and then do the opposite. Like a feint in a sparring match. 

I handed the liar his purse of gold and disappeared into the shadows, a part of me was starting to enjoy the intrigue and deception. Maybe silence was less of a punishment than I'd initially thought.


	4. Chapter 4

CASSIAN:

The sun had set by the time I arrived back at the House of Wind. Feyre had met me just over the Winter Court border and winnowed me the rest of the way, but I had to make my own way out of Autumn to avoid detection, and it had been a slow journey avoiding the scouts and guards. Beron sure was a paranoid bastard. Azriel and Morrigan hadn't returned from their day's work yet, and I was a little worried what was taking them so long. All Az had to do was put in an appearance, check the females were being trained, make Devlon wet his knickers a bit, and come home. He should've beaten me back by a measure of hours, but they were nowhere to be seen. I cautiously hoped my big mouth hadn't gotten him into too much trouble.

I was headed to the kitchen to see if some food would ease my concern, when I spied Nesta sat in the corner of the kitchen. She looked positively livid, even by her standards, and I was momentarily glad of my muzzle - I could never help myself when it came to provoking her, and she looked ready to gut someone.  
"Good evening, Nesta." She just glared at me and huffed. Oh, something was definitely off. "Can I get you something?" I offered cautiously  
"Your brother's head on a pike?" Rhys had been here all day, so she must be waiting for Az to return. Oh gods, what had he said to her? I raised an eyebrow in question - to ask without asking. She took the cup of tea she'd been holding and threw it with some force at the wall. It smashed and sent shards of porcelain flying; I raised an arm and put up a siphon shield to absorb the debris - not from hitting me, but from flying back and slicing into her (thrown weapons were one of the many combat arts she needed instruction on, but wouldn't accept). It wasn't aimed at me, or anywhere near me: it was a simple expression of her fury. I still didn't say anything, but calmly poured her another cup, which I brought over and calmly set down in front of her. If I couldn't siphon out her fury and direct it at me like I normally did, I would have to take Az's approach: Manners and a listening ear. Not exactly my strong suit, but she clearly needed someone to dull this edge before Az came home and she tried to hack off his wings with a dinner knife. She eyed the cup for a moment as if it might contain manbane rather than tea, but to my surprise instead of sending it flying after it's predecessor, she took it up and sipped it, a mumbled "thanks" over the rim. No venom, no barbs, just "thanks". Well, that was different.

We sat in tense silence for a moment before she said anything. "It's Elain. She has been weeping in her room all day - not like the quiet crying she does sometimes, great racking sobs that might break her in two. I haven't seen her this bad since before Hybern... And it's all because of something that overgrown flying rodent said to her this morning. And I even had to find that out from the cheery blond one." Nesta still didn't use our names if she could avoid it - like if she did, she would have to acknowledge we were people, not things. She sighed ruefully. "If it had been anyone else - if it had been you or one of the others, it wouldn't have affected her like this, I know it. I think she considered him a friend. Her only friend, really. Felt safe with him, and now it's all been blown to hell... I'm just so scared all the progress she's made will be undone. I can't lose her too." A single tear slipped down her face, so unlike her. I wanted so badly to say something - anything - to bring back the fierce and unshakeable female I knew, but I still couldn't say a word. I mentally cursed my brother - both for causing this in the first place and for my current predicament. I couldn't offer any platitudes, or words of comfort, so I did the only thing I could do. I leaned closer and gently placed my hand over hers. I had expected Nesta to snatch her hand away and slap me, or to ask me what the hell I was doing, but she didn't. She didn't react at all.

Companionable silence followed. I stroked her hand gently, and no more tears flowed. After a while (it could've been a few seconds or a lifetime), she gently took her hand away. Eyes firmly on the floor, she rose to her feet.  
"It's getting late. I should go." I was glad she had thought better about confronting Az. With her in that state and his... predicament, it wouldn't have been pretty. "Thank you. For... For listening. For not saying something dumb or meaningless. I needed that." She leaned down and placed a featherlight kiss on my cheek before leaving the room.

Not for the first time today, I thought that silence definitely had it's merits.


	5. Chapter 5

AZRIEL:

The chill kiss of the icy mountain air on my wings hit me before the vista of the steppes took visual form. The smell of smoke, sweat, steel, and raw Illyrian magic was acrid in my nostrils.  
"Gods, I hate this place." I huffed.  
Mor put a comforting hand on my shoulder. "We just have to put in a quick appearance to keep the old prick in line. We'll be in and out before you know it. Just keep it together."  
"Easy for you to say." I grumbled.  
We made our way up to Devlon's tent - even with the cabins serving as permanent residences, Devlon had always maintained a battlefield-style command tent in the camp. He seemed to think it kept up the war-like atmosphere that helped young Illyrians grow into battle hardened warriors. I had always though it just made him look like a twat. Mor opened the tent for me (where usually I would be the one to hold doors open for her, that would be seen as a sign of weakness in this backward place) and I passed under the canvas.

"Shadowsinger. I wasn't expecting you."  
"The general sends his apologies." Mor explained. "He has been called away on urgent business."  
"I meant that I thought we were past needing these little mothering visits. I'm not a babe that needs to suckle at his mother's tit: I've been running this camp since before young Azriel could fart a shadow. Surely there's no need?"  
I picked my nails absently as I spoke. "On my way in, I didn't see a single female sparring. So clearly there is a need."   
"Look, let's be frank. This is Rhysand's side project to impress his new piece. It's not to the benefit of the females, certainly not to the benefit of the armies. Surely now he's got those obsidian claws into her, we can stop pretending this is anything more than a half-baked fantasy."  
"In the interests of 'being frank'," (I panicked internally at the thought of what might come out of my mouth) "Cassian isn't away on urgent business. He sent me because his methods were... Failing to get results. I could glare at you menacingly from the sidelines some more, but I'm feeling a little more pro-active lately. I blame her influence." I cocked my head at Mor. On the inside, I sighed: What was wrong with glaring menacingly? It had worked perfectly well for me for centuries.  
"'Pro-active'? Pull the other one."  
"Did you think I was here in my capacity as Spymaster? I have another role in Rhysand's court." I drew Truth-Teller and thumbed the sharp edge. "Or had you forgotten that?"  
He tried (and failed) not to show his unease. My reputation for meting out cruel and unusual punishment in the torture chamber clearly unsettled even my former mentor. He jutted his chin out in defiance.  
"Whatever you've come here to say, say it and get gone. You might be all high and mighty in whatever circles you run in nowadays, but here you'll always be the runt that all but pissed himself when I tossed him off that cliff."

It turned out my lack of restraint wasn't purely vocal. I lunged at him and winnowed us out into the ring, tossing him in the frozen mud. A dozen or so trainees scrambled to clear the area, but watched on from the sidelines. My eyes didn't leave Devlon as I addressed them.  
"Your Camp Commander thinks that he knows better than his High Lord." I circled round behind his head, Truth-Teller pointed at his throat. When he attempted to rise, it bit into his flesh just enough to keep him down. "He thinks that females are made for menial work and breeding, and aren't worth the time to train." I kicked him hard in the shoulder, forcing him over onto his front. "He also thinks he can talk down to his superiors because he is under the impression he isn't replaceable." My boot pressed his head into the mud. "He is wrong on all three counts." I placed Truth-Teller at the juncture between his shoulder and his left wing and his scream echoed throughout the camp as I severed the nerve. I repeated the process on the right and left him sobbing in the mud. "Perhaps the few months his wings take to heal will give him the opportunity to see the hidden worth in the females he denigrates. Perhaps the pain he feels every mile he drags them behind him will teach him some respect. And perhaps watching this will teach you all not to be like this prick." I spat on the fallen Commander. "Your female peers are toiling in the laundry and the kitchens. Go help them finish their work so they can kick your arses."

I didn't look back as I strode out of the camp, Mor following silently behind.


	6. Chapter 6

AZRIEL:

Mor winnowed us back to the House of Wind in silence. I was shaking with the magnitude of what I'd done. She grasped my hand firmly as she led me to my chambers, closing the doors behind us.  
"I thought you might appreciate some time to collect yourself before we greet the others."  
"Thank you." I focused on my breathing.  
"What you did today. It was extreme, but it was necessary. The softly softly approach wasn't getting us anywhere. I know it can't have been easy..."   
"But it was easy. I've been dying to put that bastard in his place since the first day I met him. In all honestly, this was just an excuse for that beaten, terrified child to get his revenge. I just can't believe after all this time I actually did it."  
Mor smiled tightly at me. "I guess something good came out of my magical mishap after all."  
"It's a really bad idea for you to be here with me. This thing has still got a while to run it's course yet, and I've already maimed and offended more than enough people."  
"Az, we've known each other for centuries." She put her hand on mine. "What could you possibly say that would threaten that?"  
"I could tell you I've been madly in love with you for five hundred years but I'm too much of a coward to make a move." Shit. SHIT. But Mor... Mor didn't look surprised. "You knew, didn't you?" She just looked at the floor. "And you didn't say anything, which means you aren't interested. Let me guess, I'm just not you type."  
"Something like that."  
"But Helion was. And Cassian."  
"Az..."  
"Don't you dare say you don't want to risk our friendship."  
"I LIKE FEMALES." For what felt like the first time all day, I was silent. Dumbstruck. Tears started to spill from her eyes. "I'm sorry I never told you. I've been trying to tell you for what feels like forever, but then you look at me in that way that makes me feel like I'm the only good thing in your life and I lose my nerve. Whenever you got too close, I would sleep with whoever was convenient to put off the conversation. I hated the idea of hurting you, and in the end that only made me hurt you more. I'm so sorry, Az." She sighed. "Please say something."  
"In a way... it's kind of a relief." She looked incredulous. "It's like I've been trapped by my own inertia. To finally have a conclusion to this. It's like I can move on now."  
"Really?" She didn't sound convinced.  
"I think that might be part of why this whole magical mess happened in the first place. I've always been frightened that when I finally told you, you would just keep that mask on and I'd never know if you were really okay."  
I leaned over and kissed her cheek. "I just want you to be happy, Mor. Whomever that may be with." Her sigh sounded like the weight of the world was lifted off her shoulders. "Who else knows?"  
"Only Feyre and Viviane. I think Rhys suspects."  
"Cassian?"  
"No. Do you think I should tell him?"  
"I think you should be free to be who you are with all of your friends. But I'm frightened your godawful spell will make me blurt it out in some horrific way. I can just see it now: 'Hey Cass? Apparently you're such a terrible lay, you put Mor off our entire gender'."  
"Wow. Point taken."  
"Okay, there isn't much time left to run on the spell now, so maybe it's best if I just stay out of his way for a couple of hours."  
"I could stay and keep you company?"  
"I'd like that."   
I wasn't lying. It was a relief to finally lay down the torch I'd been carrying for her and just be her friend. Blurting out my innermost thoughts at the drop of a hat had been inconvenient, embarrassing, traumatic... but also cathartic. I thought that maybe speaking your mind sometimes does have it's merits.


	7. Chapter 7

AZRIEL:

Even though I felt it when the spell had ended, I gave it until long after sunrise before I ventured out. Rhys, Mor, Feyre and Cassian were all waiting for me.  
"Morning Az." Mor handed me a cup of coffee "Feeling more like yourself?"   
"More or less." I replied. "Cassian?"  
"Yep. And gods, it's good to be back. Mor has sworn on her favourite shoes never, ever to do that again. Don't get me wrong, it was an eye opener, but I missed the sound of my own voice."  
"Weird. The rest of us didn't miss your flowery prose." Feyre dug Rhys in the ribs for that one.  
"Flowers... Oh gods, Elain. Is she here? I have to apologise."

As if on cue, Elain burst through the door with armfulls of pots, putting them down for a moment as if she had struggled some distance with them. "Could one of you give me a hand? The vendor was kind enough to deliver my supplies to the door, but after all those stairs it didn't seem fair to ask him to take them through to the garden." My face must have betrayed my surprise. "Oh Azriel, I meant to apologise for getting so worked up yesterday. You were right to push me - I met the most wonderful people at the market. One of them even offered to teach me how to use my magic for horticulture." She kissed me on the cheek. "Thank you. You're a good friend." Feyre helped her gather the pots and take them out to the terrace garden, listening all the while to her beaming about her landscaping plans.

"Looks like things worked out well for both of us. I only wish I could've been there to see you stomp Devlon's sorry backside."  
"You were with me in spirit, brother. I could practically hear you telling me to press his face harder into the mud."   
Cassian laughed one of his great roaring laughs. "Did I miss any other great revelations?"  
Mor looked at me with wide eyes. "Nothing of significance." I said, and she smiled at me softly.   
"Well, I think surviving a mile in one another's shoes earns us a drink. I definitely need one. Red or white? Soddit, I'll bring both."  
As he reached the doors to the cellar, I said. "Feyre."  
Cassian stopped. "Come again?"  
"Your argument last night. Mor was right: Feyre would definitely beat Rhys in a fight. If the variety in her magic and her ability to slip through his shields doesn't win it for her, she can just call a sex ban until he caves. He'll be bowing at her feet in no time."  
Mor's grin beamed at me across the room.  
"This conversation isn't over." Cassian said as he descended to the cellar.   
Mor looked at me conspiratorially and I winked at her. It was going to be a long night.


End file.
